


The Strength in Lack of Continuity

by skyestar7703



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Cassandra Cain is a great sister, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dysfunctional Family, Hurt Dick Grayson, Memory Loss, Mentioned Rape/Noncon, Multi, Post Ric Grayson, Unreliable Narrator, Wally West is a Great Friend, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestar7703/pseuds/skyestar7703
Summary: Ric Grayson is done, and Dick has all his memories back. Everyone expects things to go back to normal now. Everyone is surprised when they don't.(Or: In which having all of one's memories returned at once can mess a person up just as much as losing them, and Dick tries to heal despite his grievances.)
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Everyone, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r - Relationship, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson - Relationship, past dick grayson/wally west - Relationship
Comments: 195
Kudos: 832





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DC has done Dick Grayson dirty, and while I can't fit everything into one fic, I can certainly fit a lot! What's the point of amnesia, after all, if things just go back to the way they were? It's also a bit of a look into the idea of miraculously regaining memories after amnesia, and how that could theoretically cause just as much problems as memory loss itself. And I personally like the idea of there being a transition period where Dick recovers from such a drastic change in personality.
> 
> It should be noted that this is from the viewpoint of an unreliable narrator, and not all of their opinions are how the author feels. I love the batfamily, even if they do fuck up sometimes!

Dick remembers _Dick_. All those memories of his life that he had refused to accept, then danced around, they’re all back in full force. He remembers his siblings, his family, his role in that family. It’s a lot to take in.

They defeat the Joker. Dick defeats the Joker, saving the rest of his family. And there are some pats on the back, some “Good to have you back” phrases from everyone. Dick gets a huge hug from Damian, which is an amazing thing, to be sure. 

He gets all of his assets back. He has a _penthouse_. And a fuckton of money stored away, from being Bruce Wayne’s son, as well as his own investments. Why no one bothered to tell him about any of that when they knew he was living in a freaking cab is beyond him. Be Dick Grayson or suffer penniless, apparently.

Later on, Dick lets everyone know what he’s doing, so they don’t panic. He calls Damian, and tells the kid that he’ll let him know where he’s staying, and that he can come over anytime he wants.

Then he packs his bags and gets the hell out of Gotham.

* * *

Bea is over often, which is surprising since he did sort of drag her into the whole Joker mess, even if it was on accident. He thought she’d be madder.

“I’m not mad,” she tells him bluntly, a nice cup of coffee in both of their hands. “What’s there to be mad about? It was traumatic, sure, but it wasn’t like you wanted the Joker to come attack us or anything. I stuck with you through the Court of Owls mess, and I dated you knowing what you about your family drama. I’m not gonna leave you high and dry now.”

They’re not dating anymore. It’s not Bea’s fault, of course. It’s just that remembering everything means that Dick’s had to relive Mirage and Tarantula in vivid detail, and he’s pieced together enough in the mess he calls his brain to know he’s not in a place where he can have a relationship right now. Not when all his past relationships have just come back to him at once. 

Not when he finds himself having nightmares about that night on the rooftop after the Blockbuster incident again. Not when the Blockbuster incident itself is fresh in his mind again.

But Bea understands, has been empathetic rather than upset, and that sets her apart from probably every relationship Dick can remember besides Wally, and he loves her even more for it. 

A part of him wants to push her away, even. People he’s friends with always seem to get hurt, in the end. He can’t think of a single non-hero friend who hasn’t been hurt because of him. But he needs a friendship like hers, and so he’s too selfish to do it. 

“And I appreciate it,” he tells her honestly. “Just, if you are mad at me for something, just let me know so I can…” Can what, apologize? Like he always does to his family, even when they don’t deserve his apologies? Even when _he’s_ the one being hurt by _them_? When he came to Babs after his circus burned down and she told him she couldn’t deal with him, and he apologized, stayed one night, and left, sleeping under newspapers when his apartment was bombed? When Jason punched him and Tim lectured him after he revealed he’d survived and joined Spiral, not happy he was alive or realizing the hypocrisy of their actions, not caring that Bruce had pummeled him until he agreed to that scheme? 

Bruce has punched him before, multiple times. Has stood by while Lex Luthor shoved that pill down his throat to make his heart stop, has beat him and mocked him and belittled him and hardly ever apologized. Dick has so many good memories of the two of them, but the bad ones are more visceral and emotional and inexcusable. 

“Of course I will.” She smiles at him. “Communication is how relationships stay healthy, romantic or platonic. You do the same if I ever make you mad, okay?”

“Deal.” He smiles at her, genuinely. She smiles back.

“Has your little brother called, by the way? You said he might.” Dick has told her about Damien, of course. The little brat and little brother was up at the top of his favorite family members list, right next to maybe Cass, who never bothered him and continues to give him his space.

“Yeah, a few times.” Damian will usually call him late at night, obviously after a patrol, sometimes to rant, sometimes just to talk. At first, Dick tried to pretend to be the cheerful older brother Damian was used to, but Damian had seen right through that pretty quick, and so mostly he just listened. It was awkward, at first, but it’s been getting better.

Others have tried to call him too. Tim, Barbara, Bruce. Dick would answer, leave a short message about needing space, and hang up. The only one he stayed on the phone for was Alfred. 

Jason hasn’t reached out to him at all. 

“That’s good.” Bea sips her coffee. “This is good too, by the way. Anyways, just because they’re your family doesn’t mean you have to support them all the time, especially when it comes to your dad. Don’t let them make you do anything uncomfortable, alright? And if they push, just know that I did try and hit Joker with a baseball bat. I’m not afraid of chewing out some relatives.” Something in Dick’s chest warms at her words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” As Ric, he was lucky to have her as a partner. As Dick, he’s even luckier to have her as a friend.

* * *

Dick moves around a bit, seeing the sights, trying to give himself some normal experiences that most people have, like being a tourist. He’s not interested in being in Gotham, or Metropolis, or even Jump City in California. Eventually, he settles near Boston for a while. And yet, he still finds himself donning the Nightwing costume and fighting crime most nights. 

It makes sense. Even as Ric he went out and fought crime, because he couldn’t stand by while others were in danger. Even amnesia couldn’t take that away from him. Now that he’s Dick Grayson again, it’s natural that he pick Nightwing back up.

And yet, the suit sometimes feels uncomfortable, like it was meant to be worn by someone else. Like he doesn’t quite fit into it. 

He isn’t Ric anymore, but he often finds he doesn’t really feel like Nightwing. Sometimes, all he knows is that he’s Dick Grayson. But that doesn’t mean he has any clue who Dick Grayson is, or should be. Memories don’t always make the man, it seems. Especially when those memories are so convoluted and jumbled together, like a worn jigsaw. All the puzzle pieces in place, but the pieces are still bent and frayed and torn, and so the picture will never truly be complete.

Or maybe he’s basing all this around the unrealistic expectations his family has set for him. They seem to think Dick Grayson was the perfect son and older brother (even though they criticized him constantly), and yet he remembers nothing of the sort. Just a broken boy trying his best to keep his horribly dysfunctional family together.

* * *

Damian calls him, but Cass is the one to visit him first. She rings the doorbell, and Dick lets her in, no questions asked. He remembers the unspoken rule that Cass is left out of any family drama, because she’s never had anything to do with it. Being mad at Cass is impossible, and so he isn’t.

“I like your place,” she says. “It’s cozy.” It really is. Dick could’ve bought something bigger, but this is what he felt he needed. Something cozy, unlike the manor. Something he could completely call his. 

“Thanks,” he responds. “I can make coffee?” It comes out as more of a question than he meant it to be. Cass accepts. She makes herself comfortable while he gets their coffees ready, and while it’s silent, it’s not a bad silence. Cass always makes silence comforting, somehow. That’s something he definitely remembers. 

He finishes pouring the drinks and hands one to her. “You are angry at us,” she says, after she takes a sip. “At the family.”

“Not you and Damian,” he corrects. “Damian is twelve, I can’t be angry at him for his reactions to this whole mess. And you’ve never given me a reason to be angry with you. Maybe not Stephanie either.” Relief passes across her face at the reassurance. He looks down at his coffee, swirling it around, watching it swish in a spiral pattern. “And not Alfred really. He’s Alfred.”

“But the others,” she presses gently. 

“Yeah. Years and years worth of memories containing arguments and grief and being the rock for everyone else while they acted as though I never had any bad feelings of my own all coming in at once can do that.” 

He remembers his frustration with Damian when they first started working together, of course. That’s still there as well. But there’s less of it, more of the good memories, and the burning pride when it comes to Damian’s improvement manages to cancel out the frustration. Not to mention the fact that Damian isn’t even a teenager yet. He can’t say the same for the others.

He remembers giving Robin to Damian, trying to explain himself to Tim, who wouldn’t hear of it. As if Robin wasn’t his to give away. He remembers this in tandem with remembering learning that Bruce had replaced him, given his mother’s name to some random kid while Dick was in California with the Titans and couldn’t veto his decision. 

At the time he decided to make Damian Robin, he had felt horrible, caught between a rock and a hard place, and giving Damian a chance to break away from his murderous training while giving Tim a chance to fly on his own had seemed the best option. He had hurt at Tim’s anger, looked for ways to make it up to him, all while trying to keep Damian in line, take care of Gotham as Batman, and grieving for Bruce. 

Now, with those two separate memories taking up the same space in his not-quite-assembled timeline, he only feels righteous indignation. Robin is his _mother’s name for him_. He should be able to give it to whoever he damn well pleases. 

(He also remembers how when Bruce seemed to be dead, all the evidence pointing that way, Tim had refused point-blank to give up looking. When Dick had appeared dead, with plenty of hints that it wasn’t so, Tim hadn’t looked. Not that Dick remembered, at least.)

Dick pulls himself out of his mess of memories because Cass is still here, and watching him, looking concerned. “Sorry. It’s still a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

“The memories?” She guesses. There’s no pity or judgement, just understanding. Dick loves his sister. 

“Yeah. There’s a lot to sort out. Put in place.” He tries for a laugh, like he used to, and it feels far too hollow. Funny, he remembers being a better actor than this. “It all came back at once, so it’s kinda disjointed in here.” He points to his brain. “I guess I’m still working on snapping the pieces together.”

“And the emotions?”

“And the emotions for them,” he agrees. “A lot of what are obviously old hurts feel really raw, and they’re all together. So yeah, I guess I’m angry at our family. I’m _pissed_ , actually.” He laughs again, and it sounds bitter. More like Ric. “Sorry, didn’t mean to unload.” 

Cass’ eyes are sad. “You need to unload to someone.”

“I have someone,” he protests.

“Damian doesn’t count. We both know you refuse to put your troubles onto him. It’s a good thing, but it means he doesn’t count.” She’s right, of course. Even as messed up as he is, Dick won’t ever force his problems onto Damian if he can help it. Not like Bruce did with him. 

“I didn’t mean him. I have Bea, a friend I met when I was Ric. We’re still good friends. She knows about all this, and she’s a good listener.” Plus, Cass is still part of the family. He doesn’t want to unload onto her, and then have her think about it when she goes back to them. He knows she can handle it, but he doesn’t want her to have to handle it. Not because of him.

Cass smiles. “I’m happy for you. It’s good to know some good came out of this.”

No one has implied anything good came out of Ric before. Dick doesn’t know how to respond without breaking down. Cass hugs him, and he hugs back, and the affectionate gesture finally feels at least a little genuine again.

* * *

“You have a nice sister,” Bea comments one day. They’re sitting outside at a café in Boston, talking about everything and nothing, when she brings this up. Dick looks at her, surprised. “She contacted me last night. Thanked me for being your friend and listening. I thought you’d want to know.” 

“Yeah.” He really isn’t too surprised. His family’s never really cared about the concept of privacy, after all. “Thanks for telling me. And yeah, Cass is really cool.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Cass?”

“Short for Cassandra.” He shrugs lightly. “Everyone calls her Cass though. You know, I think you two would get along.” Bea has a sort of calming presence while also taking no bullshit, and he’s pretty sure Cass would like her a lot. 

“Maybe I’ll text her back and invite her to lunch.” Her tone is joking, but her expression shows there’s at least something serious in her words.

“You should,” he encourages. He’s pretty sure his smile is real as he says this. “You could both come over and steal my food together, instead of doing it separately.” Cass hasn’t stolen anything at his new place yet, but it’s really only a matter of time. Bea laughs.

“I’m glad you have at least some people in your family who are good to you.” Which is something, really. She must see his face fall, because she continues. “Not that you need to look for the good in everyone, of course. It’s okay to be pissed. You can even hate them if you want. Or you can forgive them, but it’s your choice.”

 _Hate, huh_? “I don’t hate them,” he admits. “Or if I do, I love them just as much. I think when everything falls into place more, I’ll figure out what to do.”

A large part of him feels guilty, for staying away. He should be at home, helping everyone with their problems that they’re undoubtedly having, reassuring them that he’ll always be there for them as their older brother and friend and son.

But he’s been told repeatedly that his help isn’t appreciated. He’s been brushed off and snapped at and hurt and _punched_ when he’s tried. Dick Grayson always tries to help his family. Dick Grayson is tired of trying. 

For once in his life, he’s going to try and put himself and his own health first.

* * *

Wally comes to visit one day. 

Dick knows that many in the Justice League have been off world on an important mission during much of the months he spent as Ric. Wally probably hasn’t even heard that he got shot in the head before now. 

He probably only bothers to knock because Dick hasn’t given him a key to his new place. He’s a bit surprised Wally didn’t just knock down the door. He doesn’t want to worry about having to replace it though, so he’s glad his friend didn’t try that. 

Wally’s bouncing on tips of his toes, worry wafting off of him. Dick opens the door and immediately gets wrapped in a huge hug. 

“I just heard.” Wally’s voice is muffled by his arms and chest. “About you getting shot, and losing your memories, and the Court of Owls, and everything else. God Dick, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I swear-”

“Yeah.” Dick doesn’t let his old friend wallow in pity, because that’s Dick’s job, from what he remembers. He reluctantly breaks away from the hug. “Come on in. Bea and Cass just raided my food stores and I haven’t been to the grocery store in a couple weeks, but I have cereal, if you’re interested.”

“Course you do,” Wally laughs, and something inside Dick twists painfully. He lets Wally in and after stopping to grab some cereal, they head to the living room. 

Wally flops down onto the couch, and Dick sits in his comfiest chair, waiting for Wally to say something. His friend seems to study him, and as he does, the lighthearted expression falls from his face, and he looks seriously concerned. 

“How are you holding up? Are you feeling okay?” Wally shakes his head. “Scratch that, of course you’re not. But right now, are you doing alright?”

Wally doesn’t make it about him. So many people make Dick’s problems about them, how they’re hurt by him not being as perfect as he is in their minds, and Wally doesn’t do that. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s nice talking to Bea and Cass and Damian, and now you too. But I’m not…”

The thing about Wally is that he and Roy and Donna are Dick’s oldest friends. And even when he had a falling out with Roy, even though he and Donna haven’t talked in a while, Wally has always been there unless he physically can’t. Dick can tell those three anything, and right now, Wally is here, asking.

“I’m not okay,” he finally admits, unable to raise his voice from a whisper. “I want to be happy, and cheerful, and the person that everyone seems to love. I want to be a part of the family again, to be the family member everyone can count on. But I can’t. I can’t get over this, I can’t get over Ric, I can’t get over _anything_. I’ve bounced back from so much, I know that. I remember that. Why can’t I bounce back from this?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious.” Dick looks up at him. “You’ve dealt with a lot of trauma, and let’s be real, you’ve dealt with most of it by just tucking it away and pretending it doesn’t exist. But now all those traumatic things have come to you at once, and so you can’t tuck it away, and it’s overwhelming. You’ve been through some messed up shit, Dick. We all have. Having to relieve every single bit of it all over again is fucking you up.”

Dick blinks at him. “It sounds so obvious when you put it that way.”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” Wally puffs out his chest playfully. “To point out the obvious that your super smart mind runs right past. It’s why we make such a good team.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t make things automatically better, but having his issues spelled out for him does give Dick the sense that he’s going in the right direction. “Also, was that a pun? It was terrible.”

“You have absolutely no room to talk!”

* * *

“Father misses you, you know,” Damian says one night, as the two of them are talking. Dick has just gotten back from his own patrol. He’s taken a part time job at a flower shop during the day, not because he needs the money, but for something to do, to keep himself busy. Damian’s been calling more often recently, and Dick wonders if Bruce is just becoming more and more unbearable. 

“Sorry you have to deal with that, Dami.” He remembers hearing from the others that Bruce is a lot worse when he’s not around. Before Ric, that would be his cue to go back to Gotham for a bit and head off the brewing drama. “If you want, you can stay here for a bit.”

Dick refuses to be Bruce’s punching bag again. He may be a disaster, but he’s been trying to build up a bit more self-respect, and he doesn’t doubt that Bruce will tear it down without even realizing. 

“I’m fine for now, but I might take you up on that offer soon.” Dick smiles at the phone. It’s such a stark contrast to his memories of Damian as closed off, angry, and infuriating. Hearing him express himself has helped Dick to start putting those more frustrating memories back in their rightful place. “It’s not just that though. I think he misses you in the regular way, not just the Father way. Drake misses you too, of course. He’s always moping, and it’s obvious why.” 

What can Dick say to that? What would he have said before? 

Go back and apologize and have everything go back to the way it was, probably?

What would Bea advise him to do?

She’d probably tell him that his family being sad doesn’t make what they did better. She’s probably right. 

Dick should go back and try and make things better. Dick isn’t going to. He’s going to stay out here and live his life and not get back into old bad habits. 

But he doesn’t want to tell Damian that. So instead he says: “I’ll think about coming to see them. No promises. But again, my door’s always open for you.” 

It’s something he would’ve said before he got shot in the head. Dick hopes that means he’s improving.

* * *

Tim shows up at his door, wanting to talk. Dick lets him in, to hear him out.

“We need you back,” Tim says, with barely a hello, and Dick can feel the walls around his heart shutting down, the anger rising. “ _Bruce_ needs you back. I know you’re recovering, but-”

“I don’t care if Bruce needs me or not,” Dick says flatly, and Tim shuts up, eyes wide. “I’m not going back. Not for a very long time. Not after everything. Sorry Tim.”

“How can you say that?” Tim looks honestly floored. Dick can’t really blame him much, because he might’ve said something like that half a dozen times before, but they both knew he never really meant it. Not like he does now. “You were gone for months! We needed you, and you weren’t there, and now you’re finally back, but you won’t even try to help?” There’s some of that old anger in Tim’s eyes, old wounds that didn’t really close. “What the hell, Dick?”

“I wasn’t really gone,” Dick reminds him. “You all knew where I was. You could’ve come to see me at any time.”

Tim flinches. “It wasn’t the same. You weren’t yourself. You weren’t _Dick_.” 

“No, but I was still your brother, wasn’t I?” The bitterness is leaking into his voice now, and Dick almost feels a bit like Ric again. “So you had a reason to come see me, or even help me figure things out. But I wasn’t Dick Grayson, so none of you did. Can’t be bothered when it’s me who’s in trouble, right?”

“That’s not true!” Now Tim looks a little mad. “We did try and help! We wanted you to be yourself again! You refused! Do you even remember what you were like? You were a massive dick who denied that Dick Grayson existed anymore and pushed everyone away. You can’t just come back and say things like that now that it’s all over. You weren’t the one who had to deal with all that.”

“Remind me, who was the one with the memory loss here? I had to deal with it more than all of you. And let’s not pretend Bruce isn’t a huge dick who pushes everyone away. Matter of fact, let’s not pretend Jason doesn’t do the same as well.” There’s an awful rush of satisfaction, letting the words fall out. He feels sick to his stomach and elated at the same time. “I’m tired of having my feelings pushed away for the greater good.”

His younger brother goes cold. “Funny. You don’t seem to mind pushing other people’s feelings away for the greater good.”

 _And there it is_. “Is this about Robin? Because maybe I’m remembering it wrong, but I can give my family’s colors and my mother’s nickname for me to whomever I want.”

Tim looks horrified, and Dick thinks he might’ve gone too far. But letting people know that Robin is his is such a large weight off his shoulders.

“I’m not perfect. I can’t solve everyone’s problems. I can’t always be your cheerful older brother who tries to make everyone get along and fix all of this family’s problems,” he finishes flatly. “I was Ric Grayson, and just because you want to pretend that didn’t exist doesn’t make it go away, and won’t make me go back to before. We can pretend he was someone else all we want, but at the end of the day, a part of that was still me. If you can’t accept that, leave and come back when you can.”

Tim leaves.

* * *

Dick calls Cass at 1 o’clock that night. “Cass, I fucked up.”

“Oh?” Such a simple word for such a bad situation. Dick tells her what happened, making sure he doesn’t sugarcoat his own actions.

“I heard a bit about it already,” she admits. “Tim was in tears.” Dick feels like he wants to throw up. 

Had he really said those things? (Yes, he did.) Had he meant them? (Pretty much every word.) “I feel like shit for doing that. He’s my younger brother, and I shouldn’t - shouldn’t take everything out on him. But I think that maybe it’s worse that I meant what I said.”

He hears someone else talking from Cass’ end of the phone. “Bea, and Stephanie are here,” she explains. “It’s nice to have a friend who isn’t a cape but understands. She says it was your delivery that was wrong. I agree.” 

Dick winces. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“You can’t take it back.” Cass says bluntly. “You can just move forward.” There’s talking on the other end. “Stephanie wants to talk. Can I press speaker?”

Dick thinks for a moment. “Sure.” 

Sure enough, Stephanie’s voice rings out from the other end. “I’ll talk with Tim, don’t worry about it. He’ll need time to stew, he always does, but he’ll think it through and come back, and you can apologize then, and talk it over like civilized people.”

“Just don’t apologize for everything,” Bea adds. “If you meant your words, make sure he knows that. Otherwise it might just go back to before, and I think you don’t want that.” 

She’s right. They’re both right. And maybe part of the reason things never totally got resolved between them is because Dick came running to Tim while the other boy was still stewing, and apologized for everything, even the words he said. 

“Also, mind if I come over and say hi sometimes? It would be fun to hang out again.”

Dick considers Stephanie’s words for only a moment. “It would be fun. Thank you for doing this. And all of you for listening.”

“Of course.” Dick still feels awful, but a little better than before.

* * *

“I was assaulted, you know. Sexually, I mean. Twice.”

Wally freezes. 

Dicks resting on the couch next to him, and the two of them have finished watching some dumb movie. It’s hard to say those words, and he can’t even bring himself to call it rape, but he’s been having trouble sleeping at night or reacting well to contact since remembering, and maybe - maybe he can trust Wally with this.

“Who? When?” Wally’s voice is low and angry. Dick swallows. 

“Well. I mean. First there was Mirage. You weren’t there, but it was with the Titans, and it was really complicated, but she, ah, made herself look like Kori. I thought I was sleeping with Kori.” He can see Wally wince.

“She took advantage of you, essentially,” Wally summarizes. 

“A lot of people do.” He thinks of all the lewd and uncomfortable comments he’s gotten over the years, since he was around sixteen, all the people invading his personal space. “She just went even further.” 

“That’s horrible. I can’t believe someone did that to you.” A harsh breath finally leaves Dick’s body, because _oh_ , Wally’s mad for him, not at him. “But you had the Titans who were there to help?”

Dick shrugs uncomfortably. “Not really. I got called a slut. Kori was pissed and broke up with me. Everyone said I should’ve known the difference. Maybe they’re right.”

“They’re not,” Wally snaps. “They’re not, that’s awful. God, no wonder you’ve been hanging around the Titans less lately. Were we even eighteen back then?”

Dick doesn’t want to think about it. Sometimes he still mixes up the ages of memories in his brain, so he can’t really confirm anyways. “The second time was a lot more recent. Right after Blockbuster died. That night I mean.”

Wally knows. He knows about Blockbuster, and he knows a little bit about Catalina Flores. 

“It’s not as though I fought her, or anything. I just told her to get off-”

“You don’t need to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Wally’s face is pained. “Barbara was pissed at you then, wasn’t she? Did she know-?”

“No. I never told anyone. Not after I was blamed for it the first time.” He sighs. “I can’t hold it against them. I never told them.”

“Yeah,” Wally agrees. He sounds hollow. “Dick, why didn’t you tell me though? Did you think I wouldn’t stand by you?” 

Dick slumps down further on the couch. “Kori never looked at me the same. Barbara thought I was basically cheating on her with a villain, and she didn’t look at me the same either. I didn’t want you to look at me differently too.”

Because he’s had lots of romantic partners, including Bea, but Barbara, Kori, and Wally are the ones he’s always felt the most drawn to, the most in love with, even if the first two didn’t end up working out and he and Wally never got farther than small kisses when they were young. He couldn’t bear to let down Wally the way he did the other two.

“I would never,” Wally promises. “It wasn’t your fault, Dick. Neither time was your fault. You were the victim, and it was wrong, and everyone should’ve stood by you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you then, but I promise if you ever need to talk now, I’ll listen.”

Dick, to his utter embarrassment, breaks down. Wally holds him as he cries. 

It doesn’t hurt as much afterwards.

* * *

Jason is in his house. 

“Hey there, Dickiebird. Nice place you got here.” He’s leaning on the counter like an asshole, of course. “Heard you made Tim cry. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Dick sighs. Unlike with Tim, Jason is an adult, and dishes out far more than he takes. He’s not even as angry now that he’s gotten everything out of him, even if he’s still kicking himself for how it happened. Now he’s just tired. “Jason, what do you want? Why are you here?”

“I can’t say hi after you finally unfucked yourself? Rude.” At least he’s not smoking right now. Dick would’ve kicked him out. “You’re always inviting yourself where you’re not wanted, after all.”

“Does it look like I’ve been doing anything like that recently?” Dick snaps back. “Either you’re here to drag me back to Gotham for something, or you need my help with something. You hardly ever come see me otherwise, and if it was about my memories, you would’ve come already. So out with it.”

“Wow.” Jason stands up straighter, hurtful humor mostly gone. He’s a lot taller than Dick. “You know, with everything that happened, I thought I might be losing my reason to be pissed at you. You were the opposite of your usual annoying golden boy self, after all. But then you come back, and you snap at everyone and make the replacement cry.”

“You never needed a reason to be angry at me, Jason.” Dick says coolly. “You’d use any and every excuse to do so. Where did this start? Bruce making me fake my death? Being too “perfect” of a son and brother? Not being a good enough brother? Was it Robin?”

That makes Jason pause. “I heard what the Robin name means from the rest of the family. Your family name, huh?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t too pleased that Bruce would take my name and colors, knowing what they meant to me, and give it to someone else without my permission.” Dick leans against his counter as well. There’s a long silence between them.

Jason lets out an exasperated sigh. “Once you really get back to being your usual golden boy self, you’re gonna be kicking yourself for getting pissy like this. We both know that. Everyone knows that.”

“The problem with that logic is you assume everything will go back to normal,” Dick points out. “And that I was ever any sort of golden boy. Do you know how many times Bruce smacked me around? I might not have all my memories sorted out, but I was already fucked up back then. I was just better at hiding it.” 

“Dick-”

“I’m not going to apologize anymore, Jason. Not unless I’ve actually messed up. And I’m not making excuses for your actions anymore. I’m tired of making excuses for everyone’s actions. I’m tired of trying and trying when you make me feel like shit so often. I’m sick of being shot at when you have an off day.” He turns away. “So this is an ultimatum: shape up or we’re done. If you don’t want to be brothers, that’s fine. If you do, you’re going to need to meet me halfway.”

Jason gapes at him. “You’re serious.” 

“I am.” He refuses to back down.

Jason looks away first. “Guess being Ric really did have some lasting effects. Whatever. We’ll see how long that stance really lasts.”

* * *

“Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t mind, if I ever call you saying I feel really bad about pushing Jason away, remind me that he’s pushed himself away, and if I keep running back to him, nothing will change.”

“Done.”

* * *

One time, when he and Cass have agreed to patrol together, he waits until the end of the night to ask the question that’s been on his mind for a while. “Do you really not mind? That I’m not as good at being a brother as I used to be. That I’m still different than before, even though my memories are back?”

They watch the traffic below. “I am not the same as I was when I came to the manor,” Cass eventually says. “Tim is not the same as he was. Jason is not the same. Damian is very different. I still love all of them. You love me even though I’ve changed.”

Something must be caught in his throat, because he can’t find the words to respond. Cass looks at him with a soft smile. 

“People change. I still love you. You are still Dick Grayson, even if you’re not exactly as you were before.” 

And that, Dick thinks, is exactly what he needed to hear.

The suit doesn't feel as wrong on him as it did before.

* * *

Dick opens the door and looks down at Tim. The expression on his younger brother’s face reminds him uncomfortably of his own, when he’s gone to apologize to his siblings before. He doesn’t want to make that expression again, but he wants to see it on others even less, especially because of him.

But maybe that can end here. Maybe they can finally break the cycle and start moving forwards in the right direction.

“Hey, Dick.” Tim sounds nervous. “Can we talk?”

Dick finds himself smiling, and it strikes him suddenly, how much he feels like himself in this moment. “Of course. Come on in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to include Bruce and Barbara, but it was already getting longer than I expected. Maybe if enough people want it. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and please review, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson: A continuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to write a second chapter, but as I'd been watching, reading, and writing other things it was slow going. I'd sort of dipped out of DC for a bit. But then I see a bit of what happens to Dick when gets back, what Bruce says, what Barbara does, and hear that Damien is being stripped of Robin, and my hatred for how DC treats Dick Grayson and revulsion at the fact that they're trying to take away all of Damien's character development comes back in full force, and suddenly the chapter is flying by. 
> 
> It should be noted that there are several POV's here, and the "Unreliable Narrator" tag applies to all of them. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

Dick sits down on the couch, trying to get comfortable. The couch itself is nice and plush, and the room is cozy, but it’s the situation itself that makes him uneasy. He’ll just need to move past the feeling, he knows. 

Across from him sits a woman in her mid-to-late thirties, blonde hair, brown eyes, and a look that says she won’t be taking any bullshit. “Mr. Grayson? My name is Dr. Sullivan. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You as well. Thank you for having me,” he says back politely. 

At first, when Wally and Bea had suggested therapy, he had brushed the idea off. It wasn’t as though he could tell any possible therapist about his double life, after all. There would be so many things he would have to leave out. Not to mention his attempts at therapy while Ric had been… bad, to say the least. But Bea had pointed out that good therapists wouldn’t press for specific details of their patient’s traumas, and there were ways to word things that wouldn't point towards him being a superhero. The fact that he had been a police officer when the Blockbuster incident happened was a huge help. 

And so here he was, hoping that this would help. 

At the very least, it would be a good step forward.

* * *

Damien knocks on his door late at night, and Dick immediately answers. His youngest brother looks a mix of angry and dejected, a look Dick knows all too well. “It’s good to see you Dami,” he says, and stands out of the way to let Damien in. “I’ve got snacks I can get out quickly.”

“That would be fine,” Damien admits, passing him to enter the house. “Even something awful like your junk food would be fine right now.”

If Dick wasn’t already on alert before, he certainly is now. “What happened?”

Damien doesn’t say anything, making his way to the kitchen. Dick, who’s remembered Damien always loved the cotton candy they got when they went to fairs and circuses together, has some packs in his pantry, and gives one of them to his little brother, who eats in silence, clearly still stewing. Dick waits patiently for him to talk.

“Father is being insufferable,” he finally says. “More so than before. At times it is a little-” he stops short of saying “ _intimidating_ ” or “ _scary_ ”, but Dick still feels like his heart is dropping to his stomach. “I didn’t feel… comfortable staying tonight. I needed out. For a little while, at least.”

There’s ice in his veins, fear in his heart, and Dick hopes to god he’s overreacting, but he’s not at the manor, so he doesn’t know for sure what happened there. He looks Damien over with a more scrutinizing gaze, trying to spot any bruises that might not be from patrol. “Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Damien shakes his head, looking a bit scandalized. “Of course not! Father wouldn’t go that far.” Dick breathes an involuntary sigh of relief, and now Damien looks more hesitant. “Grayson? He wouldn’t, right?”

Dick opens his mouth to reassure him, but no words come out. He knows he used to be able to redirect a conversation like this easily. He remembers doing that. But he’s been honest about it to Bea, and to Wally, and when Jason had visited, he’d flat out told him Bruce smacked him around. It feels wrong to lie to Damien after that. 

Damien’s looking more openly panicked, and Dicks insides twist into a knot. “Grayson. Has - has father hit you?” Dick still can’t find the words, and now Damien seems seriously distressed. “Tell me!”

“...Yes. A few times, when he’s been emotionally compromised.” And times when he hasn’t, but Damien is his little brother, and he can’t, he can’t unload on him like that. 

Damien’s living in the manor, and Dick isn’t there to take the brunt of Bruce’s anger anymore. Now that he’s had a bit more time to sort things out, he recognizes that that’s part of the reason he continued to stay, so that hopefully he would take the beatings rather than his little siblings. 

He still won’t go back. He promised himself he wouldn’t, that he deserves to not be smacked around just as much as the rest of his family does. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry for them.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me this?” Damien demands, voice cracking slightly. “Father - Father hit you! And more than once! And you try to brush it off as him being emotionally compromised, but when I made excuses for Mother and Grandfather, you said it didn’t matter, that they still hurt me and it wasn’t okay, so why are you making excuses for him?”

Dick blinks. He has said that. He hadn’t remembered. It’s only natural, he thinks. There are so many memories that a couple have probably slipped through the cracks. “You’ve got me there,” he admits with a soft sigh. “Come on, let’s sit down. That way we can be more comfortable for this talk.” Damien scoffs a bit, but follows him to the living room.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to burden you,” Dick says once they’ve sat. “You’re my little brother. It isn’t your job to deal with my problems.”

“You always say I can come to you with my problems,” Damien fires back. “How is this different? I thought you trusted me, that - that we were partners.”

“I do trust you!” Dick quickly assures him. “And we are partners, no matter what. It’s not about trust, Dami.” He searches for the right words to say. “It’s - parents and older siblings should be there to listen to their kids and little sibling’s troubles, because they’re hopefully better equipped to handle it. When it’s the other way around, the parents and older siblings should instead look towards people closer to their age to talk about these things with. They shouldn’t burden their younger family with that.”

Damien looks unconvinced, and so Dick continues. “I remember when I was your age, and was Bruce’s partner. He could be good about it, but sometimes he could be so… _consumed_. And sometimes it felt like those expectations and burdens and guilt were put on me as well, even if he didn’t mean to, and it was heavy.” An understatement. “But with you and Jason and Tim, I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that. I figured Bruce was doing enough of it.” 

It hadn’t stopped him from lashing out at Tim that one time. But that was different. He shouldn’t have said it like that, sure, but he still doesn’t regret it. He also can’t imagine saying the same to Damien. 

There’s something pained in Damien’s expression. “I think I understand. But I still don’t like it. It should be equal, between us. I can handle your problems. I may be the youngest, but I can certainly understand better than the others can.”

Dick smiles gently at him. “I know. But I would still feel awful for burdening you. How about this: give it some time. When you’re a bit older, if you still want to know, I’ll tell you everything. Is that a deal?”

Damien deliberates. “That’s acceptable. I will still want to know when I’m older, and you must promise to keep your word that you’ll be honest and tell me.”

“I promise.” They’ve all had to grow up so fast. Damien never even had a proper childhood, and Dick remembers that he’s always been determined to give the kid at least a semblance of one. At least he’s managed to put the conversation off for now. “On another note, the spare bedroom is already set up, and you can head on up to sleep whenever you’re tired enough for it.”

“I can stay up later!” Damien says as he fights off a yawn.”

“Sure you can. I’m tired though, so I’ll be going to bed. I hope you’re okay with cereal in the morning, because I just ran out of pancake batter.”

“I should rest up then, so I can get some for you early tomorrow morning. I don’t feel like cereal.” Damien follows him up the stairs, then pauses in front of the spare bedroom, then looks at Dick nervously. “Grayson. I realize that after having to talk a bit about the issues you had with Father, you might have trouble sleeping.”

Dick fights back a smile. “You can sleep with me tonight, Dami. I don’t mind.” Damien lets out his signature “tch”, but eagerly follows him anyways.

* * *

Tim knocks on the door to Dick’s new house, case files under his arm, and after a moment, Dick lets him in. “Hey there Tim. Coffee?”

“Yes please.” Tim tries for a smile. “Mind if I use your kitchen table?” 

Dick waves an arm out lazily. “Go right ahead. Should be clear, but you can just move any newspapers or books onto one of the chairs. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” Dick heads for the coffee maker, and Tim sits down at the table, moving aside the books and setting his computers and files up. It's a routine of his, now, to do some of his work at Dick’s place. He tries to come at least once every two weeks, because at this point, he’s realized Dick’s really making good on his words when he said he wouldn’t be coming back to Gotham. 

And whether Tim likes it or not, he’s smart enough to acknowledge that this situation, as well as Dick’s new and much more sour attitude on things, won’t be going away any time soon. 

And Tim’s already lost so _goddamn much_. He refuses to lose one of his brothers once again, especially right after he got Dick back in the first place. 

(Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him, and wasn’t that fucked up? Why hadn’t Dick told them that before? Why was Tim only learning these things now, when it was almost too late?) 

Dick comes back with two cups of coffee and sets one of them down in front of Tim. He tries it, and it’s his favorite, just the right amount of sugar. Which means Dick remembered how to make his coffee just how he likes it. Tim swallows a lump in his throat, and turns his laptop slightly so that his older brother can see the files. 

Dick looks at them with sharp eyes that clearly haven't been dulled by his former memory loss, and quickly gathers Tim’s intentions and asks about the case, which is what Tim hoped he would do. Tim responds as smoothly as he can, and they fall into an easy rhythm, looking for patterns in the string of robberies Tim’s currently taking on. 

It’s so easy to converse like this, it almost makes Tim nervous. Sure, they’d do it before, especially when Tim was younger, still Robin, and Dick would always try and look out for him and mentor him when Bruce was physically and/or emotionally unavailable. 

They’d stopped for a while after Dick made Damien Robin. Tim had been so hurt, and angry, and betrayed that Dick wouldn’t believe him about Bruce being alive, would choose some brat as his Robin over him, that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with him for a long time. 

(Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him. When Dick appeared dead, Tim hadn’t looked. Why hadn’t he looked? Thinking back now, the signs were so obvious, what had he been _thinking_?) 

Tim hadn’t been able to talk to _Ric_ (and god he hated that stupid name), because even looking at the man who had his brother’s face but none of his memories and personality had been like swallowing a lump of hot coal, and so Tim had avoided him as much as he could. 

It’s still hard, because even though Dick has his memories back, he’s not the person Tim remembers, who would hug him at five in the morning and tell him to get some sleep, who would mitigate the damage between Bruce and the rest of them like nobody else could, who always had a kind word and a kind smile and a ready laugh for any situation.

It’s not really fair, he knows, because how can he be angry at some of Dick’s choices and still hold him in that high regard? He knows why Dick was angry at him the first time he visited, even if it still hurts to even think about, because that _still_ wasn’t the brother he knew, Dick would never say those things-

It’s hard to have a conversation with Dick when he still feels like a stranger sometimes. But Tim can’t lose him, even if he isn’t the Dick he knew, even if that person isn’t coming back anytime soon, if at all. 

But they can always talk about cases. And so Tim brings his cases over whenever he can, and the void between them is filled that way. 

“Tim, you’re spacing out. Are you alright?” And Dick looks at him with concern and even though there’s a hardness and guarded look in his eyes and face that wasn’t there before, the concern he’s showing is so much like the old Dick Grayson that Tim almost chokes on his words.

“I’m fine. Just thinking,” he says.

Dick studies him. “You don’t look fine.” 

Tim shrugs helplessly, because what else can he say here? “Just got some things on my mind. I'd rather not talk about them, if you don’t mind?”

Dick holds his gaze for a moment more and seems to understand something, because he nods with a small smile that isn’t like his old ones but is much better than nothing. Much better than _Ric_. “Alright then. I won’t pry.” 

He doesn’t tell Tim he can talk to him about it anytime, and Tim doesn’t ask. They haven’t made up enough for that yet. But hopefully they will soon.

For now, Tim turns back to the case.

* * *

“So, Tim’s been coming over then?” Bea clarifies. They’re at her place, and she’s shuffling the deck of cards after their last wild game of Speed, setting up for another round. “How’s that been? Are things a bit better?”

“Yeah,” Dick smiles as she deals the cards. “He’s been stopping by a lot recently. It’s been kind of awkward, but I think it’s getting better.” 

Awkward is one way of putting it. Tim only seems to come over when he’s dealing with a case, which means they haven’t really been interacting outside of a work environment, but Dick’s pretty sure that’s just Tim’s current way of handling things, at least from what he’s sorted out in his memories. It’s pretty obvious the kid’s uncomfortable, but he’s clearly trying, which is more than Dick could really say about their previous relationship.

Although… “I think he still doesn’t see me as the “real Dick,” he admits with a sigh. “Maybe I’m overthinking things. But sometimes the way he looks at me… it’s just a feeling I’m getting.” And his original apology felt just a little half-assed. Tim’s not the apologizing type. None of his family are, besides him. He knows the intent behind it, but genuine verbal confirmation would probably make things much better.

“Are you going to talk to him about it?” Bea asks. 

He probably should. Before all of this, he wouldn’t have. He’d just be happy that Tim was talking to him at all, and that would be that. But he’s much less inclined to go that route now. It would just feel like a cop-out to what he was trying to accomplish with their relationship, and nothing would change.

“I’ll give it more time,” he decides. “See if he says anything himself. If not, I’ll-” Do what? Not yell at him again, not be super rude about it, even if there are things he’s still frustrated with Tim about. It’s not just that it might be tasteless, but he’s really been getting that out of his system at this point. 

Therapy has actually helped greatly in that regard. What would Dr. Sullivan suggest? “I’ll ease into it this time. See if we can hold an actual conversation about it. You know, like mature people.” Bea snorts, and Dick sticks his tongue out at her at the obvious implication. 

“Aww, you know I wasn’t referring to you. You can be plenty mature. Sometimes.” She smirks and finishes setting out the cards. “Seriously though. Whatever you decide, you’ve got this. And you’ve got plenty of people backing you up.”

“I know. Thank you.” Dick really does know. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Bea, and like Wally. “And this time, I’ll be beating you at Speed.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

* * *

They may not be Outlaw buddies anymore, but Jason still keeps in touch with his former team, and they’re all still good friends, so Jason spending the night at Roy’s criticizing him on his food choices is nothing new.

What is different from usual is that his heart’s not really in the visit, because he can’t get his asshole older brother’s words out of his head. Because even after all this time, Dick still has to taunt him like this. Fucking typical. 

“ _You never needed a reason to be angry at me, Jason. You’d use any and every excuse to do so._ ” 

_Shut up_ , Jason thinks back bitterly. Dick still wasn’t himself, was all. It wasn’t like it was the first time Goldie had lashed out like that. Never mind the fact that the only time he could really think of was years ago, well before he’d died. It still happened. Still counted. 

“ _You assume I was ever any sort of golden boy. Do you know how many times Bruce smacked me around?_ ”

Jason slams his hand on the counter a bit too hard, and Roy doesn’t exactly jump, because they’re both far more trained than that, but definitely startles. “Someone’s in a mood,” he teases dryly. “What’s got you so worked up this time?”

“What makes you say I’m worked up?” Jason fires back. Roy raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you know me better than almost anyone and all that gooey shit.” 

“You said it, not me,” Roy snarks back with a grin. Jason fires him a mock glare, and Roy just laughs. 

This is why he’d much rather spend time with people outside the Bats. His family is so goddamn judgmental, even though he hasn’t killing anyone in ages. Years, even. And they still won’t fucking trust him, so why should he give a shit? 

Dick still hasn’t reached out to him. 

“Now you’re making a face like you just swallowed a whole lime,” Roy points out. “Seriously. What’s up with you?”

Jason lets out a harsh sigh. _What the hell_. “It’s Dick,” he admits. “That asshole. He’s got his memory back, but somehow he’s even worse than before. At least when he was doing that whole “Ric” thing he could excuse his whole douchebag-fuckup schtick as him not having his memories.”

“What did he do this time?” See, this is why he loves Roy Harper. He doesn’t make excuses for Dick like everyone else does. Doesn’t take Dick’s side, because clearly Bruce’s favorite must be in the right, not family disappointment Jason. 

“ _Do you know how many times Bruce smacked me around?_ ” 

He tries to push the words aside again. Bruce wouldn’t. Not Dick Grayson. There was no way. Everyone knew B loved Dick more than the rest of them. He wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

No way.

“Maybe I did fuck up this time,” he admits, softly, more to himself than to Roy. Roy still catches it anyways, judging by his expression. “I just, I’m still pissed. That he faked his death, that he went behind all of our backs, and then he just fucking lost his memory and got away with all of it.” Sure, Jason punched him, and Tim lectured him, but that was a small fucking price to pay for pulling that kind of shit. 

“I guess. All you Bats have mentioned that he wants to be left alone, so I haven’t talked to him since he got back.” Then Roy seems to do a double take. “Wait, faked his death? When?”

Jason frowns. “You know. Crime Syndicate, bomb strapped to his heart thing? We had a funeral, remember?” There’s no way Roy doesn’t know about this. 

“Yeah, but he didn’t fake that. I mean, I had to hear it from Ollie, who heard it from a pissed off Clark, but Luthor really did stop his heart. He was dead for a few minutes. Technically it wasn’t fake.” Roy’s brow furrows. “Or are we not counting it because it didn’t last that long?”

“What,” Jason says.

What?

_What??_

He’d said. Dick had said that Bruce had made him fake his death. 

“ _Do you know how many times Bruce smacked me around?_ ” 

_No way_. Jason’s stomach feels like lead. 

“You didn’t know,” Roy guesses. “You didn’t know he’d really died. Did he or Bruce not say anything about it?”

“Yeah, no shit.” Fuck, Jason feels like the worst person ever. He hates that it’s Dick that’s making him feel like this, but he almost hates himself even more. “No fucking shit.”

* * *

Jason’s in his house again. For what, Dick isn’t sure, but he looks pissed. 

Which is fine, honestly. It’s not like Dick isn’t pissed at him as well, after everything. But his friends and Damien and Cass and Steph and even his therapist have been helping, so it’s not nearly as strong as it was when he was first sorting things out. “Hey,” he greets. “You here to actually talk this time?”

Jason glares. “Something like that.” Not a good start to this conversation. If he thinks Dick is just going to give in and let Jason walk all over him because he’s sulking, however, he’s sorely mistaken. “Why didn’t you tell me you actually died?”

Dick pauses. Blinks. Then he shrugs, sorting through those particular memories. “At the time? I blamed myself anyways, I think. It wasn’t like the rest of you. I was only dead for a few minutes, and just in a coma for the week after.” He thinks. The timeline is still a bit confusing, but he’s positive that he woke up after the funeral. His funeral. 

“That still counts!” Jason snaps. “It doesn’t matter how much time it was, dead is still fucking dead.” 

“I know that _now_ ,” Dick assures him dryly. “But I was so fucked up from everything at that point that it just felt easier to take the hits.” 

Jason looks sick, which is an interesting look on him. Dick appreciates the thought, but it’s a bit too late at this point. The more bitter, Ric-like part of him thinks that if Jason really wanted to act all horrified, he should’ve thought for a second before he punched him in the first place. 

“You said Bruce made you fake your death,” Jason says slowly. “Did he hit you?” 

_Ah_. Well, It’s not like Dick hasn’t already admitted his shitty relationship with Bruce. “Yeah. I was already declared dead when I woke up. He told me I had to join Spyral. I said no. He beat me until I couldn’t say no anymore.” He shrugs like the thought of it doesn’t still burn him. It does. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive Bruce for it, and he’s almost positive that particular thought comes from before he was shot in the head. 

“Fuck.” Jason runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he repeats. He narrows his eyes. “Last time I was here, you implied he’s done this more than once.” 

Right, he had. “Yeah. He hit me hard enough to knock a tooth out during the whole Court of Owls mess. The first time we fought them, I mean. And there was-” He stops. Looks at Jason.

He’s torn. A vicious part of him wants to tell his brother as bluntly as possible. The memory is still somewhat fresh, after all, even if it’s slowly finding its rightful place in years past. But there’s a reason he never told Jason before he lost his memory, never wanted him to find out about this particular incident even more than the other cases. 

He’s pretty sure the latter thought is the right one. Bruce’s actions weren’t Jason’s fault. Not back then. (And not now. Jason’s actions are his own fault now.)

“There was what?” Jason asks. He looks suspicious. Dick sighs. It’s not like Jason will blame himself for it anyways. It always has to be someone else’s fault with his little brother.

“After you’d died. I was offworld, I didn’t find out until much later. I tried to comfort Bruce, and he nearly broke my jaw.” 

Jason seems to be going through several emotions at once, anger being the most prominent. Dick’s pretty sure he sees guilt in there too, and can’t really bring himself to feel that bad. It wasn’t Jason’s fault, none of those times were. But he’s so tired of that stupid “Golden Boy” nickname. 

Those are just the clearest memories of physical abuse that he has. There are plenty of memories when Bruce has wrecked him emotionally as well. 

And there’s the fact that when he first got his memories back, not only had Bruce not apologized for anything, not seemed worried or relieved, but he’d claimed he’d been “watching over” Dick the whole time, which considering the state he’d been in, said nothing good about Bruce or his care and concern for Dick. If he never got called a golden boy again, he’d be much happier. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Jason says. His fists are clenched so tightly his hands almost look white. 

Dick shakes his head, tired. “Don’t. He’s not worth losing your no-kill streak. And he’s still…” What was he going to say? Family? He hadn’t let that excuse fly for Damien, as the kid had reminded him. 

“He hit you! Multiple times, and for no fucking reason!” Oh, Jason looks furious now. 

Not that Dick isn’t angry at Bruce himself, because he is. Really, he should be thankful Jason is on his side now. 

But he’s still so bitter, and tired, and he really doesn’t want to deal with the fallout that might come from this. Not yet. Not to mention even with that, Jason doesn’t know even a percentage of it.

“He can join the club then.” Dick knows he sounds somewhere between flat and sarcastic, but he can’t help himself. “Maybe you can make T-Shirts. I’ve lost count of the times you’ve hit me or threatened my life.”

Jason flinches, hurt and anger and guilt all mixing in his expression, and Dick realizes with no small amount of guilt that he may have gone too far. “Sorry,” he tells him. “I took that too far.”

“But you meant it,” Jason accuses. 

“...Yeah.” They sit in silence for a moment. Dick gets up, walks over to the pantry, and takes out a chocolate bar before throwing it Jason’s way. Jason catches it in surprise, eyes widening when he sees the brand. “But I did mean what I said last time. I’m tired of reaching out over and over and getting rejected and hurt at each turn. But I also meant it when I said I’d be fine if we really could be family, as long as you meet me in the middle.” 

Jason looks up from his favorite brand of chocolate bar. “Are you gonna offer the same to Bruce?” 

Dick pauses. Thinks it over. “I don’t know. Probably not.” 

Jason leaves, still looking like he wants to murder someone. Oh well. At least they’re a bit more on the same page than before. 

It might be stupid, and dangerous for his mental health, but Dick can’t help but hope that things will work out between them eventually.

* * *

“You really need to get more cookie dough,” Steph says, munching her way through a batch. “Also, it’s my turn to pick the movie, so you’d better have Mulan handy somewhere.”

“Pretty sure it’s on Netflix,” Dick says dryly, moving the giant bowl of fresh popcorn into the living room. “Also, I’d have more cookie dough if you didn’t go through it all so fast.” He’s positive if he got more his food thieves would only use that as an excuse to eat more anyways. He sets the bowl down in front of the couch, and Cass and Wally immediately grab a handful, while Bea laughs at the resulting launch of many pieces into the air. 

It’s not like this happens all the time, having so many people over at once. But when Cass texted everyone about a movie night, Dick couldn’t help but agree. And he’s certainly not regretting it. 

Steph flops down next to Bea and pulls one of the blankets over both of them, snatching the remote from its resting place and pulling up Netflix. Dick sits down between Wally and Cass and puts the bowl on his lap.

Wally pouts. “Okay, that’s just unfair.” 

“My house, my food. You all already take enough.” He’s pretty sure he sees Cass taking more out of the corner of his eye. Stephanie starts the movie, and they all settle in.

It’s nice, to have a night like this. There were a few that he can remember, but the arguing that often occurred wasn’t nearly in as much good faith, and those moments where everyone settled down and got along were so few and far between. 

Relaxing and watching a movie with people Dick knows don’t want him to be anything other than himself is more therapeutic than he ever thought it could be.

He could get used to this. He _wants_ to get used to this. 

A part of him is terrified of it being taken away, like it always has been. The universe never seems to let him keep any good in his life for very long.

...Maybe that’s something else to talk to Sullivan about.

* * *

His meeting with Barbara is entirely coincidental. Dick had walked into a café while on a trip to New York, and there she was.

Barbara has been the person he’s wanted to see the least, to be completely honest. He vividly remembers that her first reaction when he obviously had his memory back was to say “ _He’s ours again_ ,” as if he wasn’t his own person. That right after, she had tried to immediately push him into taking the Nightwing mantle back again. He had taken it back eventually, but it was on his own terms, not hers, and she had called him ridiculous for it. 

And there had been how she’d acted when the Blockbuster incident was going down, something that was still so vivid and fresh and open to him, even as things were sliding back into place. 

Still, none of that helps when their eyes immediately meet, and she frowns at him. Dick is stuck. He could go sit by himself, and make her even more furious. Which he really shouldn’t care about, but he did love her, at one point. He might still, even. And seeing her angry at him still hurts. 

And she would think him a coward. 

Maybe something could be salvaged between them? Wally had accepted him. He hadn’t heard from Kory, like he hadn’t heard from nearly anyone outside the Bats, but if they could talk…

So he goes up to her table. Steels himself. “Is this seat open?”

“What do you think?” Barbara says. She’s looking at him like he’s a scumbag.

And suddenly _reconnecting_ isn’t at the forefront of his thoughts.

“I think so, actually.” Dick sits down and makes himself comfortable. “Hello Babs, how are you? I’m doing fine, thank you so much. Why don’t we catch up?”

Barbara glares at him. “Hilarious, Dick. You brush me off for months, fight me like you genuinely want to hurt me, don’t listen and ignore all my calls when you get your memory back, and you think I’d want to _catch up_ with you?” 

Dick raises an eyebrow, trying not to let his own rising anger show. “You mean when I had memory loss, when I was brainwashed, and when you tried to push me into doing something I didn’t want to right when I was recovering from both those things? And here I was thinking maybe we could get back on better terms.”

“You’re an ass,” She snaps. “Why don’t you go talk about whatever you’re thinking of to Bea? Shouldn’t you be focusing on your girlfriend?” 

“We broke up months ago, actually.” Dick still tries to keep his tone light, even though he’s kind of furious for how she’s talking about Bea. “But we’re still very good friends, and I’ve told her plenty already. But since you’re bringing up the subject, why don’t we talk about our relationship? And I don’t mean in the romantic sort,” he adds, when she looks like she’s about to speak up. “I mean friendship. I mean us being actual friends again.”

Barbara still looks angry. “You seriously think after all that, you can just ask to be friends again and everything will be fine? You have to _earn_ friendship, Dick. And you’ve done nothing to earn mine. Especially with how you’ve been acting since the second you got in this café.” She opens her laptop. “I’ve got nothing more to say to you. Try again when you plan on being decent.”

Dick is really fucking tired of being decent. 

He smiles and flicks her laptop. “No. We’re going to talk now. You want to talk about friendship, and how it has to be earned? Fine. I’ve been there for you whenever I can, and you haven’t reciprocated in _years_ , Babs. The minute I got my memories back you tried to force me into being what you wanted despite the fact that I was still reeling from, you know, getting my memories back. So yes, I took a break from you and didn’t answer your calls.”

He takes a breath. The café is crowded enough, no one is looking their way, people won’t be able to hear them. “But this isn’t about that. This is about before I was shot. This is about how you would make yourself out to be the victim in any fight we had, even when you were in the wrong. This is about how you would put me on hold for weeks, and then get mad if I didn’t answer your calls once.”

He loved her so much, at one point. They had been best friends for years before they dated. The Barbara he remembers from them was still just as independent, but she would listen to his problems and not act like it was an inconvenience for him to have negative feelings. She gave as much as she took, and he had fallen head over heels for her. 

What had happened to those times? The others could talk all they wanted about him being different, but sometimes he looked at Barbara and saw a stranger. When had this started? What does he remember changing things?

He thinks for a moment and it hits him. And Dick can practically feel his walls shutting down. 

“This is about how you saw Tarantula kick me in the balls, and then kiss me without my consent, and then somehow got it into your head that it was my fault and broke up with me,” he snaps. And then shortly after when my circus burned down, my old _home_ , and I went to you for help and you said you couldn’t stand me and that I’d have to leave in the morning, and I had to apologize to you because it couldn’t be any other way, could it? All those years of friendship gone, because you saw me being,” he chokes on his words still, even after telling Wally and Bea and Sullivan worse, “-being assaulted, and decided it was my fault.” 

Barbara looks at him with wide eyes, before they narrow, and she goes on the defensive. “You say that as if you didn’t keep running around with her after that happened.” 

“ _She raped me after that happened_ ,” Dick hisses, and Barbara goes pale. “And it wasn’t the first time. But you’re just like all the others, aren’t you? It’s always my fault, because I’m the pretty boy with the pretty ass who can’t keep it in his pants-”

“Dick, no-!” She looks horrified. “That’s not - I didn’t mean - you didn’t tell me-!” 

He’s well beyond caring about that at this point. A part of him realizes he’s having the beginnings of a panic attack. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t go into this café expecting to get into this conversation. Why had he told her, he didn’t want her to know-

Dick stands up. _He has to get out of here_. “I think I’ll get something somewhere else. Sorry for taking up your time. Especially if we aren’t even friends, like you’ve implied.” He rushes out the door, and calls up Wally before he can break down completely.

* * *

Of all the people to be standing at his door, Donna wasn’t who he expected. It’s been a long time since he last saw her, but she looks the same as ever. Maybe a little older, a lot sadder. But almost everyone looks sad the first time they’ve visited him, so it might just be that. 

“Hey Dick,” she says, sounding a bit hesitant. “I know you don’t really want to see anyone, but is it alright if we talk for a bit?”

Dick blinks. “What do you-? Oh. No, I just didn’t want to see the other Bats, and I’ve met with most of them at this point anyways.” He makes a bit of a face. “Is that why Wally’s been the only one outside of them to visit me so far?”

“Yeah, it is.” Donna looks much more relieved now. “I didn’t know- we got back from offworld and your family was talking about how you lost your memory, and got it back but didn’t want to see anyone, so I waited a while. I’m sorry for not visiting earlier.” She smiles at him, and Dick’s reminded very suddenly of just how close they used to be. 

But after his talk, for lack of a better word, with Barbara, he’s been reminded even more vividly of things he’d much rather forget, including the reason he started distancing himself from her.

“It’s fine. That explains a bit, actually.” He’d wondered why he hadn’t seen anyone outside the family, not even Clark. “I really just didn’t want to deal with the other Bats. Anyone else would’ve been fine.” 

“Well now I feel bad for not having visited earlier.” Dick forces out a small laugh and lets her inside. 

Donna’s one of his oldest and closest friends, but there’s so much they never talked about. Mirage, that mess with Brother Blood…

Actually, he’s going to ask Zatanna or Constantine if there’s anything he can get that could help him resist brainwashing easier. He’s really sick of having his mind altered against his will. 

But since Donna is here, maybe they should bring these things up now. Rip the Band-Aid off before he blows up again like he did with Barbara. (He really messed up with that one. He’s so frustrated with other people blowing up at him, and here he was doing the same to someone else again. He still doesn’t totally regret it, even if he should.)

“Listen,” he says, after he pulls out something for both of them to eat. “There are things we should talk about. I’ve - I got my memories back all at once, and so some old wounds ended up being really fresh.” Most old wounds, actually. “And there were some things we shoved to the side without ever talking about.”

“Like the incident with the Church of Blood?” She sets the apple she was eating down, looking serious. Surprised, Dick nods. “I figured. I…” She trails off, rubbing her arms nervously. “I’m so sorry. I should have - it wasn’t your fault. We were all angry, but you were brainwashed, and I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you, and it’s one of the things I’ve always thought about, but I was too afraid to bring it up.” She takes a breath. “I’m so sorry, Dick.”

And Dick just stares at her for a second, because everyone else he’s confronted about the ways they hurt him have tried to justify their actions, but Donna isn’t. She’s just, just apologizing. Genuinely. 

It actually hurts less, all of a sudden. He can breathe a bit easier. 

“It’s alright,” he says, and to Dick’s surprise, he means it. “Thank you so much. For apologizing, I mean. And I’ll try not to keep getting brainwashed.” He offers a weak smile. “Just don’t do it again, yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles back, looking surprised. “I, just like that? I mean, not that I’m not thankful or anything.”

Dick snorts. “No, I get it. But I’ve been dealing with so much worse from my family that I guess it didn’t stand out as much in the grand scheme of things.”

Donna’s smile fades. “That’s really fucked up.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He falters. He should stop here. Bring it up another time. But he can’t help himself. “There was one more thing though. With, um. Mirage. And when she disguised herself as Kory and slept with me, and everyone was calling me a slut for it, and you said nothing. You just stood there.” He swallows. Looks down. “I just. Wondered why, I guess.” 

Donna doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, “I was so messed up by the whole Tyrant son from the future thing that I blocked most of that time out of my mind.” Dick looks up at her. Donna looks unbelievably sad. “That’s not an excuse for not standing up for you. Gods, I know it isn’t. And I’m so sorry for it.” 

“I. No, that makes sense.” Of course Donna would’ve been traumatized by all that. Of course. And Dick had been so caught up in his own trauma, in what the other Titans were saying, that it hadn't factored in at the time, or afterwards. “Thank you, for telling me. I’m sorry too, that I wasn’t there for you as well.” 

“After what happened, I can’t blame you too much for that.” Donna’s eyes look watery, and Dick feels tears forming in his own eyes as well. “Can I hug you? Would you mind that?”

“I think I’d like that,” he admits. 

Donna walks over and wraps him in a tight hug, and Dick hugs back, and they’re both crying a bit now. 

He’d forgotten how good Donna’s hugs were.

* * *

The doorbell is rung and rung and rung, and Dick hurries over to see who it is. He opens it up to see Damien standing in front of him. 

His youngest brother looks absolutely devastated. Titus is next to him, for some reason. “Grayson. Can I come in?” 

He’s never asked like that before. “Of course,” Dick says, and lets him in. “I’ve got your favorites. Is there any reason Titus is with you today?” He tries to keep his nerves from showing, because he knows Damien likes it when he acts like everything is normal in these situations. 

“I couldn’t bring Batcow because he wouldn’t fit, and I couldn’t find Alfred the Cat,” Damien says, accepting the food without complaint. Another red flag. “And I don’t know - I don’t know when Father will let me back in the manor, so I had to bring someone.” 

God, Damien looks like he’s about to break down. And just like that, the old fear is back again. “Dami, what happened?” Dick asks, trying to sound calm. 

“Father fired me.” Damien’s voice cracks. “He said - he said I’m no longer Robin. He’s _taking Drake back _. I don’t know what to do.” He looks every bit the thirteen year old kid he is. “What do I do? He _fired_ me!” __

__Dick wraps Damien in a hug, and Damien only struggles for a moment before hugging back, desperately. “It’s going to be okay,” Dick says. “I promise.”_ _

__He’s absolutely _furious _.___ _

___“Not it’s not! Richard, he fired me! Nothing is okay!” Titus is burying his head in between them now, and Damien is shaking. “I’m not Robin anymore.”_ _ _

___“You are,” Dick insists. “You _are_ Robin. Whether he fired you or not, you’re still Robin.” Damien looks up at him, confused. Dick gives him a wan smile. “Let’s sit down, okay?” _ _ _

___He directs them both to the couch, and Titus follows. Damien slumps down, still holding onto him. “What do you mean?” He demands. “How can I be Robin? Father’s taking it away!”_ _ _

___“You can be Robin,” Dick tells him, “Because Bruce can’t take Robin away from you. It’s not his to give or take. It never was. It’s mine.” He looks Damien in the eyes. “Did anyone tell you what Robin means?”_ _ _

___Damien pauses. “It was your mother’s name for you, right?” He looks hesitant. “I didn’t know that, before. I thought it was a title Father gave.”_ _ _

___“That’s what most people thought. But yeah, it was my mother’s nickname for me. I chose it to honor my family. And Bruce never had the right to give it to someone else in the first place, even when I left it behind.”_ _ _

___Damien frowns. “Are you saying I should never have had it in the first place?” He asks._ _ _

___“Not at all,” Dick promises. “I’m saying that it’s a family name for me, and so Bruce can’t take or give it to others. But I can. And I gave it to you, Damien. You’re family, my little brother. And I chose for you to have it. And until you want to take another name, I’m saying you can have it. It’s my family name, and I’m giving it to you.”_ _ _

___Dick’s relationship with Damien has always been different than what he had with Jason or Tim, or even Cass. Because Damien was his little brother, but he was also like a son to him. He’d been raising him for a year when Bruce was gone, after all. If there was anyone he’d give his mother’s name for him to…_ _ _

___And while he understood what Robin meant to his other brothers, it was different. He had given Robin to Damien of his own free will, and he wouldn’t let Bruce claim it as his own again._ _ _

___Damien looks him over closely, trying to see if he’s being truthful. Then he jumps forwards and envelops Dick in a massive tight hug, which Dick immediately returns._ _ _

___“You can stay here for as long as you want,” he promises, trying to calculate how much he’ll need to spend on dog food. “I’ll talk to Bruce for you.”_ _ _

___He’s so pissed. He can’t believe Bruce would do this._ _ _

___No, actually, he can absolutely believe that Bruce would do this._ _ _

___Damien pulls back. “Are you sure? You won’t go alone, right? What if Father hurts you again?”_ _ _

___Dick smiles. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just leave it to me.”_ _ _

___Really, he’s spoken with everyone else in the family. It’s about time he confronts Bruce._ _ _

* * *

___He’s lucky. He doesn’t even have to go in the manor. He catches Bruce on the lawn. He sees Alfred closing the door to head back inside as he approaches, which means they’ll most likely be alone for this._ _ _

___Bruce barely even reacts as Dick walks up to him. “Dick. You’re back.” And that’s it. No relief, no asking how he’s been. Dick isn’t even surprised at this point._ _ _

___When Bruce had first taken him in, he was brooding and struggling, but he was also caring. He cared about him, for a while. And then Dick had gotten older, and the arguments had started, and Bruce had fired him, and things had gone even more downhill from there. And still, while part of what kept Dick coming back was to protect his little siblings, another part of it was because he missed that version of Bruce._ _ _

___But that Bruce was gone. Had been gone for a long time._ _ _

___“You’re not taking Robin away from Damien,” Dick says coolly. If Bruce wants to skip the pleasantries, then so will he._ _ _

___“I am,” Bruce nearly snaps. “You don’t know the situation here.”_ _ _

___“I don’t care about the situation here. Robin isn’t yours to give, and it’s not yours to take. It never was. That’s for me to decide, and I’ve told Damien he can continue as Robin for as long as he wants.” Bruce still won’t look at him. “You’re going to look ridiculous, telling Tim to go back to Robin. Damien will still be Robin. Everyone will know the difference. And you’re assuming Tim will give up his own identity just like that.”_ _ _

___“I’ve talked with Tim.” Dick suspects he’s just talked at Tim, rather than with him. And Dick is certainly going to need to have his own talk with Tim after this. “And as he’s no longer going to be my partner, Damien will no longer be Robin.” Bruce finally looks at him, expression stone cold. “If he’s that desperate, he can choose another name.”_ _ _

___And Dick finally snaps. “He’s your fucking child, Bruce! No, you know what? He’s not. He’s never really been your child to you, has he? He’s just been Talia’s child.” He can’t remember the last time he was this angry. “And you know what? He’s my child more than he is yours. You’re such a shitty parent that he’s better off with even someone like me anyways.”_ _ _

___He sees the narrow eyes, the clenching of the fist. And Dick laughs. “Are you going to punch me, Bruce? Like you always do when things don’t go your way? When you need someone to take out your repressed emotional instability on?”_ _ _

___Bruce pauses. Dick presses forward, sensing a crack in the façade, and because he can’t stop now. If he has his way, he won’t be seeing Bruce again for a very long time, and so he’s going to get it all off his chest now. “Robin, since you seem to have forgotten, is my name. Mary Grayson’s name for me, because I was born on the first of Spring. It’s my legacy, not yours. I won’t let you take my family name and use it as your own emotional crutch anymore. How would you like it if I took away your parents legacy for my own gain and denied it from you? Took your manor, your photos, everything you had from them, and never let you have it again-”_ _ _

He sees the punch coming. This time, _this time_ , he _dodges_. Dick grabs Bruce’s arm and uses his own force against him, and less than a second later, Bruce’s jaw is hitting the pavement. 

___Bruce is on the ground in front of him. He’s probably going to get bruises from this._ _ _

___“Fuck you, Bruce,” Dick finally says. “I was a child, not your crutch, or your punching bag. I’m a person, not your crutch or punching bag. You took me in and introduced me to the life of crime, and I owed you so much for that, but you also hit me and emotionally abused me and never even fucking told me you loved me. I stayed because I hoped you’d be better, and because I didn’t want the same to happen to the others if I could redirect it.”_ _ _

___Bruce is staring up at him now, rubbing his jaw. His suit looks dirtied and a bit torn. “I don’t think you really love anyone,” Dick tells him. “Or if you do love us, you don’t love us more than you love your own trauma. You never get over it. You never go to therapy, which is extremely helpful, by the way. And when we have our own trauma’s you’re too wrapped up in yours to give a real shit.”_ _ _

___“I was watching over you-”_ _ _

___“When I had amnesia? That’s even worse!” Dick snaps. “That means you saw I was homeless and left me sleeping in the car. It means you knew I went to see fucking Scarecrow who was posing as a therapist, you know the Court of Owls and Joker Brainwashed me, and you did _nothing_. If you were really watching, then I hate you even more for it.”_ _ _

___When he’d first woken up with amnesia, Bruce had immediately shown him a clip of him getting shot in the head. Ric had wanted nothing to do with him after that, and Dick still stands by his decision._ _ _

___Bruce finally gets up, emotions Dick hasn’t seen in years flashing though his eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment._ _ _

___Bruce finally breaks the silence. “Damien can keep Robin,” he says shortly._ _ _

___“Good.” Dick turns on his heel. “Then we’re done here.”_ _ _

___He can hear Bruce stepping forwards. “No we’re not. Dick, I-”_ _ _

___“Save it, Bruce,” he snaps. “You wasted your chance years ago. You’re lucky I don’t tell the media and the League just how much of an abusive shit you are.” He tightens his fists. “I loved you. For a long time. Maybe even now. But you don’t deserve that love. Not mine, not Damien’s or Tim’s or Cass’ or even Jason’s. And we’re done here.”_ _ _

___He leaves. Bruce doesn’t stop him. It takes until he’s halfway back to Boston for it to really sink in._ _ _

* * *

___Dick comes back with a smile and tells Damien the good news, and afterwards Damien refuses to admit that he cried over it, and Dick lets him._ _ _

* * *

___“How do you feel? After talking to him like that?” Sullivan asks._ _ _

___Dick ponders the question. “I’d like to say I feel all better, but that’s not really true. A part of me still feels like I messed up, like I shouldn’t have said those things. I guess it’s a work in progress?”_ _ _

___She nods. “That’s a very good way to put it, I think. These feelings never sort themselves out overnight. Give it time, and see how you feel with some distance from him and the conversation you had.”_ _ _

___“I will. Thank you.” Things don’t sort themselves out overnight indeed._ _ _

___He’s still recovering. He still feels lost, and torn, and not himself sometimes. Other times he feels exactly how he thinks Dick Grayson should feel. Sometimes the memories are all in place, and sometimes so many of them feel raw and fresh that he breaks down. He’s nowhere near totally healed._ _ _

___But he’s not alone. Damien is staying with him, and Robin is showing up beside Nightwing again, in Boston rather than Gotham. Cass and Steph will visit when they can, and not only is his friendship with Bea still extremely strong, but she’s become really close friends with Cass and Steph and Wally and Donna as well._ _ _

___He’s got Donna, and they’re repairing their friendship, and even though it’s still not on the level it used to be, it’s much better than it’s been in years. He’s seen Clark and Roy and Garth, and Zatanna has given in a protective necklace while she and Constantine work on something more permanent._ _ _

___And he has Wally, of course. He’s always had Wally, and he still has Wally, but it’s different now, because Wally’s staying over more and more, and getting along with Damien better than they ever did, and Dick’s starting to wonder if one day Wally’s stay will be a lot more permanent._ _ _

___It’s a work in progress. Dick is a work in progress._ _ _

___But as of right now, he likes where he’s headed._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Over nine thousand words in this chapter, and I still haven't written everything I've thought about for this au. There are still interactions I've thought about writing, and obviously friendships and familial relationships to be worked on and possibly patched up more. I'm honestly considering making this a series, if people want that. But I think this is good for now. This whole chapter feels a bit different than the last one, but I hope you liked it anyways.
> 
> I feel like I should also mention that I do like Barbara? I just like her by herself and with anyone other than Dick. Their talk is based on her recent interaction with him in comics is where she also accuses him of being awful due to what he did while amnesiac and brainwashed, and then leaves without letting him defend himself. That's why it seems so harsh here.
> 
> And I happen to like the old Bruce, and the Good Parent Fanon Bruce. But the current canon Bruce has done so many awful things that it's hard to ignore, and I just wanted to write a fic where it was genuinely addressed, at least a little bit.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and please review, let me know what you think!


End file.
